


WordH4ckers - Watch Dogs Shorts

by Spitfyaa



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Other, Shorts, challenge, wordh4ckers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 07:11:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21316234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spitfyaa/pseuds/Spitfyaa
Summary: For the duration of November 2019, the wonderful @creslightning on Twitter has posed a challenge to us Watch Dogs fans - create short works of prose to prompts over the course of November! Here's where I'm posting mine - hope you enjoy reading them!
Kudos: 9





	WordH4ckers - Watch Dogs Shorts

# Broken Men

# 

Down the end of the barrel, was a broken man. Broken, not just from the appearance of the cracked stains of dried blood soaked into his clothes and the dark hollows sunk about his eyes. More than the dappled plum bruising blossoming from his cheekbones down to an unkempt stubbled jaw; greater than the sweat-stained hair, broken nose, split lip. But if you travelled up the discoloured streaks that dripped down his face, you'd find a man broken not just physically, but broken in every sense of the word.

Click.

The sound of a movement so small - the slight adjustment of grip around the pommel seemed to slice through the silence that hung over the garage. It would take only a fraction of movement to cut the tension and return to the world, rather than waiting in this choking limbo for what already seemed like an age, but he couldn't do it.

Why not? What was wrong with him? This was the closure he'd been after for almost a year! To put in Jordi's words: tying up the last "loose end" to the very reason he'd been though this fucking mess. He'd lost so many people because of this broken man, driven his family from all they knew, killed countless hit-men and viceroys just so he could 'fix' what this man had started.

Aiden tensed and refocused the weapon at Maurice's head. The man didn't even flinch - he already seemed lifeless, and he almost was - he had no family, no friends, no allies and no reason to keep going on. Aiden knew this. He'd listened to the fragments this fixer had left behind - he'd heard the fear and desperation in his voice from pleading to get away from the grasp of Chicago's underground of crime. Aiden also knew better than anyone that the city's gangs were like an ever worsening addiction - once you pledge your allegiance - the only way to rid yourself of it was to either loose everything you love, or your life - or face the unbearable withdrawals.

The control he currently had on Maurice's fate should have made him feel better - control was what made him feel strong, after all. However Aiden had never felt more conflicted than this moment. This broken man was almost a reflection of himself - he had done what he needed to, to protect his family, and in the end lost it all. 

Aiden clenched his jaw and tightened the grip on the gun. The metal was warming, having been tucked close to his breast and now clutched firmly in his grasp. The weapon felt like an extension of his body, without the metallic chill to differentiate man from machine. That was what he was now. A machine. Shockingly efficient in executing tasks, yet no emotion to ask himself, when does he stop? What happened to the man he was before?

Aiden swallowed. That man died with Lena.

Click.

His finger twitched against the trigger as if stuck for a decision. It had never had trouble before - not with Iraq, not with Quinn, and not even with Damien. But Maurice… Maurice was the last. The final loose end to cut loose. Once he was dealt with, what next? What happens to the Vigilante? Maurice was his break. He'd be free. Free to start again - free to start a new life. Leave, go find his family, retire his grey hat and escape the vicious loop. 

If he pulled the trigger, Lena's death would finally be avenged. It was tempting. It was so, so tempting. Unlike everything he’d been through to get here, this closure was right here to take. Aiden narrowed his eyes, shifted his weight onto his right leg and brushed his thumb over the grip. He’d killed so many people to get here. Another wouldn’t matter.

“Promise me, you will stop.”

Nicky’s pleads had never once left his mind - they hung constantly at the back of his thoughts - only the obsession of the hunt kept him focused on the tasks at hand. Lying was so second nature to him that he was numb to any emotion brought upon by his manipulation. Emotion was how he would lose control.

“I promise.”

Yet lying to Nicky… It just didn’t sit right. It formed a pang of guilt that bundled into a knot in his stomach, a parasite that festered off his deep-set regret. Before, Aiden had other motives to keep it fed and out of his head but now he was running out of excuses. He one of two ways to kill the bug - shoot Maurice, or spare him. The biggest problem was which would work.

Maurice’s eyes were sickly bloodshot. His gaze seemed distant as if he were looking right through Aiden, rather than straight at him. Those eyes held a thousand emotions when he first opened the garage door and light poured onto his pale face for probably the first time in days. Now, they were almost empty. Broken. Drained like the colour in his face. He knew what was coming. He had accepted his fate. He was just waiting for Aiden to pull the trigger.

Click.

With one swift motion, Aiden pulled his mask over his face and engaged the safety on the pistol. One phone tap raised the garage door and sunlight flooded the room once more. The last thing he saw of Maurice was his body slumping forwards, as if he were merely a corpse to begin with. But Maurice was no longer his problem. The loose ends had been tied once Quinn had been silenced. Maurice had no-one to tell without losing his own head, and that knowledge sat well with the Vigilante. 

Nicky was right - there was nothing he could do to save Lena, but maybe he could save himself. As Aiden walked away, he took a deep inhale of fresh air, and realised that parasite of guilt seemed just that much smaller. For in that moment of sparing Maurice, he realised he had more control than he’d ever had before.


End file.
